


Leverage: A Christmas Tale

by fragilereality



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Mistletoe, Post-Hogwarts, Shameless abuse of metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-24 07:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17096492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilereality/pseuds/fragilereality
Summary: "Come now, did you really think I was going to pay over a million Galleons just for one kiss? I think you overvalue yourself, Miss Granger. They may refer to you as the Princess of Gryffindor, but you must know you are not an actual princess."An accurate depiction of what would most definitely happen should Lucius and Hermione be trapped under a sprig of enchanted mistletoe.





	1. Twas the Friday before Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I've been so inspired by all the Christmas creativity I've seen from other authors that I wanted to write a little Christmas one-shot of my own...so here it is...all four chapters of it! 
> 
> I want to post as events happen so I'll be updating on Christmas Eve, New Years Eve and New Years day. 
> 
> Thanks so much to the wonderful Vitellia for betaing for me. If you are partial to a little Severus / Hermione then check out her amazing story Past Imperfect. 
> 
> Thanks also to The Artful Scribbler author of my first and favourite Lumione Play Cissy for me for allowing me to borrow a couple of elements for this story.

"Mistletoe was a plant of peace in antiquity. If enemies met by chance beneath it in a forest, they laid down their arms and maintained a truce until the next day."

~ Mistletoe and the Druids from the White Goddess ~

Hermione jumped in her seat and smeared ink all over the ledger she had been poring over for the previous two hours.

"Shit!" She turned to glare accusingly at the stag patronus which had erupted through the wall of her office and startled her half to death.

"Hermione" Harry's voice burst forth from the stag's mouth. "You're late...don't tell us you're still in the office...get yourself down to The Leaky. It's Christmas."

"It's not bloody Christmas," she muttered in the direction of the stag's fading ectoplasm, although admittedly the huge tree gracing Trafalgar Square suggested otherwise. Not that she could really see Trafalgar Square from her ministry cupboard. Her lowly position as junior under minister in the Department for the Regulation and Control for Magical Creatures didn't merit a window at all, let alone one with a view of prominent city landmarks. In a fit of pique over her less than salubrious accommodation, Hermione had charmed the window to show the busy square. It really was spectacular at this time of year, decorated as it was with an enormous Norway Spruce and thousands of twinkling lights.

It was ten-thirty in the evening on the last Friday before Christmas and the square was filled with revellers heading to and from their Christmas parties. Hermione watched for a brief moment before she returned to the ledger with a sigh. She had already missed her own office party in favour of finishing a fascinating report on unusual narwhal migration activity in the North Sea. Now she was at risk of missing drinks with her school friends, too. She glanced back at the ledger. She would just finish the departmental accounts, she thought. Then she would definitely leave. She'd make it to the Leaky in time for last orders…

Two hours later she hurried along the quiet corridors of the ministry. They would still be there she told herself. The Leaky stayed open late at this time of year. She'd definitely be in time for a quick glass of wine before she sloped off home to bed.

The building appeared deserted, and no wonder; everybody had better places to be and Hermione tried not to dwell on what an indictment of her social life it was that she was here at work again when no one else was.

She was just congratulating herself on her obvious commitment to the cause when she spotted a figure standing smack bang in the middle of the corridor ahead of her. She ground to a halt, a churning feeling of dismay making her feel rather sick.

Lucius Malfoy's blond head was bent studiously over the contents of the manila folder he was perusing. To her relief he appeared not to have noticed Hermione yet. She stood fidgeting for several moments, uncertain of her course of action. She was afraid of Malfoy senior. Those cold grey eyes had a way of piercing her soul, a feat his son had certainly never achieved. Ever since Lucius had been appointed as Minister for Finance (a completely inappropriate and nepotistic appointment if ever there was one) he and Hermione had been at loggerheads and he got the better of her every time.

If he wasn't refusing her expenses claims he was slashing her departmental budget or denying her acquisitions. Only the previous week he had personally rejected her order for a new box of quills. The requisition form had come back with a large denied stamped in red and a personal note in ostentatiously beautiful green copperplate suggesting that she went through far too many quills and ought to consider shortening her reports.

It was all a thinly veiled attack on her blood status and her achievements in house elf rights, she was sure if it. Some days she suspected he had only taken the job to wind her up. He was loaded; he didn't need to work. And he certainly didn't need to work late in order to get ahead. So what was he doing here at this ungodly hour stopping honest hard working drones such as herself from getting to the lifts?

She didn't care. And, deciding that on this particular occasion, discretion was by far the better part of valour, she began to back away silently down the hallway, much as one might retreat from a quietly grazing bull in a clover field.

Sadly, it had long been Hermione's opinion that Lucius was in possession of a supernatural instinct which informed him not only of her proximity, but how best to torment her and that instinct appeared to kick in at the precise moment of her retreat. He raised his head and looked straight at her.

"Ah, Miss Granger." He sounded his usual patronising aristocratic self, but Hermione thought she detected a hint of relief in his voice. "You are better than nothing, I suppose. A moment of your time, please." He gestured at something over his head.

Hermione stopped frozen in the twin headlights of his imperious grey gaze. The urge to simply ignore him and run away down the corridor was almost unbearably strong. On the other hand there was Lucius' position as an authority figure. He was considerably more senior in the ministry than she and, whilst she was not his direct report, if he had a job for her she was obliged to carry it out. Reluctantly, she moved a little closer. He had said please.

"What do you need, Mr Malfoy?"

He rolled his eyes. "I would have thought that obvious."

Hermione frowned and took another reluctant step. He didn't appear to be injured. She scanned his appearance. He wore his usual black robes, although to call them black seemed rather an insult to the symphony of fabric, texture and embellishment crammed into the garments. Even the austere row of buttons on his elegant waistcoat which kept him firmly covered from waist to throat were engraved with the Malfoy crest. It occurred to Hermione that Lucius' robes probably cost more than her entire monthly stipend and, considering he was now forcing her to cover her own stationary costs, she was not inclined to be generous when it came to him.

She was about to tell him that she was not assisting him with whatever menial task he had been about to palm off on her when she caught sight of something sparkling over his head. The ceiling of this particular corridor was lined with pipes, presumably part of the archaic heating system. They were liberally bedecked with Christmas decorations, wreathed in holly and tinsel in a festive extravaganza Dumbledore himself would have admired and which Hermione was surprised Lucius has sanctioned given his budget slashing ways. It was not the holly nor the tinsel which had caught her eye though. It was the small sprig half hidden behind a particularly garish bauble. An innocuous looking green plant with red berries and white flowers and a suspicious sparkle to the leaves. Mistletoe. And judging from the fact that Malfoy had not moved during their encounter so far Hermione guessed it was of the enchanted variety. Before she quite knew what was happening a snigger escaped her.

"How long have you been standing there for, Mr Malfoy?" She enquired politely, making no attempt to hide her amusement at his predicament.

He sighed loudly and consulted a diamond studded pocket watch.

"Almost two hours; I'm late, so if you would be so kind as to release me-"

"Oh." Hermione's lips formed the soundless syllable as she grasped his meaning. It was well known throughout the Wizarding world that enchanted mistletoe would trap its victims until such time as they were released by a kiss. Lucius was unfortunate to have been caught so late in the day when there was nobody around to release him.

Months of budget cuts and simmering resentment bubbled in Hermione's frontal lobe.

"I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy. I hadn't realised your predicament until now." She moved again, but came to a halt about a foot away, well beyond grabbing distance. "What dreadful timing." She made a show of looking around the deserted hallways. "I'm sure there are lots of women working here who would be foolish enough to want to kiss you. Unfortunately, I'm not one of them." She made as if to leave. "I'd sooner kiss a basilisk."

"Miss Granger!" His cold voice cut off the beginnings of her flounce. "Might I remind you that as a mere under minister you are in every way my subordinate?"

"All the more reason for me not to kiss you then. It would be a dreadful conflict of interest, don't you think?. Besides," she opened her eyes wide feigning innocence, "you wouldn't want someone like me, a filthy mudblood, anywhere near you, would you, Mr Malfoy?"

He clenched his teeth and she wondered if he were counting to ten internally as she often had to do in his presence.

"I do apologise for any prior offence my words may have caused you, Miss Granger. You must believe that I hold you in the highest regard."

"Must I?" She was rather enjoying herself now. "In such high regard that you have halved my budget for the next quarter?"

"What can I say? We live in austere times." He spread his hands expansively. "Are you really so petty as to refuse to assist me over something so trivial as a minor budget cut?"

"It's not minor to me." She hadn't meant to sound so passionate and immediately wished she could bite back her words. "Although of course it's nothing I can't handle." He had no right to hear how distressed his actions had actually made her.

"Then come here and kiss me."

That phrase coming from the lips of this man was so wholly unexpected that Hermione couldn't help herself. She let forth a peal of laughter.

Lucius' fingers clenched convulsively around the head of his cane. A cane which once contained his wand, but which Hermione has on good authority was currently empty. She was not quite sure how a convicted felon who was currently denied a wand by the terms of his probation had come to hold such an exalted ministerial position. Corruption might be rife elsewhere in the ministry, but she absolutely refused to show him any respect.

"Miss Granger, I don't think you understand the precarious nature of your position."

"Oh I think I understand quite well." She made a show of examining the carved handle of her own wand. "I'm just heading down to the Leaky Cauldron now to meet my friends. And you? Well, you'll just have to stay here. I suppose one of the cleaning crew might happen upon you," she paused for dramatic effect "but I had heard that you'd slashed the janitorial budget as well as mine, so I'm not sure anyone else will come down here until Monday morning. I hope you've got plenty of reading material in that briefcase; it's going to be a long weekend." She tucked her wand back into her sleeve and made to step around him.

"What do you want?" Lucius' voice was harsh.

"I beg your pardon?"

He spread his hands. "You've won, Miss Granger. You have me at a disadvantage. What exactly will it take to convince you to help me?"

Hermione stared at him in surprise. She hadn't expected him to cave so easily; she's almost disappointed.

"I want my budget reinstated."

"That's not possible. I didn't cut it out of mere spite. The ministry is vastly overstretched."

Hermione hid her surprise at this. She had assumed that Lucius' cuts were due to a personal vendetta rather than genuine political need.

"Not my problem, Malfoy. I'm not the one stuck in a corridor for the foreseeable future."

He sighed heavily. "I can increase it by one third."

"Deal." Hermione couldn't hide her smirk. "And I'll need you to authorise my requisition request."

"Which one?"

"This one." She scrabbled in her own briefcase and pulled out her defaced order.

A ghost of a smile flickered over Lucius' face before it was quickly banished.

"You are not willing to consider my suggestion?" He arched a well shaped eyebrow.

"I don't really think you're in a position to make suggestions at present, do you?" She attempted to imitate the brow arch although she was aware that she was considerably less adept at facial gymnastics than he, and that her brow was probably much less well groomed.

He sighed. "Consider your request fulfilled, Miss Granger. Anything else?"

Hermione pressed a finger to her lips. "You won't call me mudblood anymore."

Lucius looks horrified. "I object to such slander. I wouldn't dream of casting such a slur." He placed an elegant hand on his chest his expression one of sincere shock.

"You cast such a slur three times last week," Hermione pointed out.

"Well, I can assure you no offence was intended." Lucius' tone is as smooth as silk. No wonder he's so good at getting what he wants.

"Nonetheless it was taken." She scowled at him. "You won't call me that again."

"Tell me, Miss Granger," he looked very much as if he would like to move toward her, but the mistletoe prevented him from doing so, "Why is it so important to you what I call you?"

"It's a matter of common decency." Hermione forced herself not to scream at him like a fishwife.

"Common decency," he repeated. She did not like the way he said common.

"Very well," he said after a moment's contemplation. "A one third increase in your departmental budget, the fulfilment of your request for yet more quills and my abstention from besmirching the noble house of Granger in exchange for one kiss. I must say you value yourself highly. Do we have a deal?" He extended his hand for her to shake.

"Wait a minute." Hermione's hand stopped on its journey toward his. "Bearing in mind your complete lack of moral compass, what's to stop you from going back on our deal as soon as I've kissed you?"

"I'm a gentleman." Lucius looked aggrieved. "My handshake is my bond."

Hermione thought for a moment, or at least gave the appearance of doing so. She already knew she was going to take the deal. What was the worst that could happen? Even if he reneged on their agreement all she had to lose was her pride.

"Fine." She extended her hand to take his.

Her breath left her in a strangled whoosh as Lucius grabbed her and pulled her body up hard against his. She was struck by the realisation that, under those flowing robes, Lucius Malfoy was seriously ripped. The arm holding hers was like a steel bar and there was absolutely no give in the chest her nose was pressed against. She pushed these inappropriate and unwelcome thoughts aside as she struggled against him, sudden panic lending her additional strength. It was futile. Lucius' fingers travelled up her arm and she felt her wand sliding out of her sleeve. Her indignation at seeing this man touch her wand was short lived as he flung it down the corridor, well out of both of their reaches.

"So gullible," Lucius muttered in her ear before he released her. Hermione struggled to put as much space between them as possible. She managed six inches before the enchantment took hold and she realised that she was now trapped under the mistletoe along with Lucius.

"You snake!" She slapped his chest. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"Exactly what it looks like." He brushed imaginary specks of dust off his lapels after their brief tussle. "I'm incentivising you. Now we are both trapped it really makes sense for you to give me what I want, doesn't it?"

"What? No! But I was already going to give you what you wanted."

"At a ridiculously high price," he countered. "Come now, did you really think I was going to pay over a million Galleons just for one kiss? I think you overvalue yourself, Miss Granger. They may refer to you as the Princess of Gryffindor, but you must know you are not an actual princess." Hermione could only gape at him.

"Now now, my dear." Lucius smirked down at her and gently pressed a finger against her chin in order to close her mouth. "I realise you must be grateful for this valuable life lesson. You may thank me later, now shall we?" He began to lower his head towards hers.

"Absolutely not." Hermione spun around and presented him with her back. "I've told you before I'd sooner kiss a basilisk."

"Were that could be arranged," Lucius said through gritted teeth. "So what are you proposing? We spend the weekend here together?"

"I'm not proposing anything." Hermione gave an angry shrug. "Our current predicament is entirely down to you. Now, since I'm obviously not going to make last orders I have some work to do." She dug in her briefcase and removed a wad of documents which she pretended to study in detail.

Lucius was close enough that she actually felt his sigh against the back of her neck.

"You are a stubborn little thing, aren't you?" If she didn't know better she would have said he sounded almost impressed. "Very well then, Miss Granger, we shall play this your way." She felt his large body moving behind her as he dug in his own briefcase. Silence reigned between them with only the occasional page turn to indicate that they were not alone in the corridor.

Hermione's back began to ache. She tried to lower herself to the floor only to be prevented from doing so by the enchantment. Clearly the mistletoe considered sitting down too comfortable for its victims.

"Ah, yes, I tried that some four hours ago." Lucius shifted his weight slightly so his hip brushed against Hermione's back. "It's amazing what torture protracted standing becomes, is it not?" Hermione elected not to answer and want back to correcting the report on working standards for immigrant goblins in the banking industry.

Lucius shifted again and his scent washed over her. Hermione held her breath, trying not to do anything so intimate as to breathe in the admittedly slightly heady aroma of his cologne.

"Bridie," he said.

Hermione stiffened. The man had clearly gone mad. Perhaps his time in Azkaban had given him a propensity for insanity.

"Yes, Master."

She jumped as a tiny house elf appeared with a crack.

"Would you be so good as to fetch me a cup of tea?"

"Of course, Master." The elf disappeared with another crack.

Hermione ignored the exchange even though the mere mention of tea had left her mouth dry.

"Why don't you just have the elf Apparate you out of here?" she asked, her own teeth gritted this time.

Lucius gave a low chuckle. "You disappoint me, my dear. I would have thought you would have been the first to remind me that human apparition is not permitted even for house elves within the ministry."

Hermione felt a blush colour her cheeks; she had not actually known that.

The elf reappeared and furnished Lucius with his cup of tea in an ornate china cup complete with saucer. Hermione pointedly turned a page of her report.

"Delicious." Lucius took an appreciative sip. Hermione ignored the tantalising aroma of bergamot. "Would you care for a biscuit, Miss Granger?"

"No."

"Not hungry, I suppose. You can have your own elf deliver something when you are...oh wait, I don't suppose you have access to an elf do you? My my, it is going to be a long weekend for you, isn't it?"

She refused to dignify him with a response.

He finished his tea and the elf returned to clear away the cup and saucer. Hermione stifled a yawn. It had grown very late. She wondered if her friends had enjoyed their night out. She would have liked to think they might search for her, but the sad truth was that she was rather unreliable these days. Too many weekends and evenings had been spent with her at work and plans cancelled without notice for them to be surprised that she hadn't shown up tonight.

She rubbed at her aching back and suppressed a shiver. Was it just her or was the building getting colder?

"The heating goes off after midnight." Lucius answered her unspoken question.

"Let me guess, another budget cut?" She couldn't really criticise that particular economy. She hadn't seen anyone else in the building so late, except Lucius. She failed to suppress the shiver this time.

"Bridie?"

"Yes, Master."

"Fetch me a cloak, the black one with the green trim." Hermione ignored the series of pops that followed and was therefore taken unawares when something warm and heavy dropped over her shoulders.

"Your shivering was putting me off my reading," he explained when she looked inquiringly up at him.

"Thank you," she muttered after a few minutes. The cloak was very warm and she couldn't help but rub her fingers against the luxurious silk lining. The spicy scent of Lucius which she had been trying very hard to ignore clung to the fabric. Merlin, she thought. I'll be smelling like him for the next week.

Another aeon passed and Hermione finished the report on goblins and replaced it in her briefcase. A brief glance over her shoulder indicated that Lucius was still engrossed in his own work; either that or he was asleep on his feet.

"Won't your wife be worried about you?"

She felt his elegant shrug. "My ex-wife is unlikely to notice my absence and if she were to she would undoubtedly hope that it signified my demise. I'm sure Draco would provide a much more generous allowance than I."

"Oh." Hermione didn't know what else to say. He hadn't sounded angry. More resigned if anything.

"And you? Won't your friends be wondering why you eschewed your night at Leaky Cauldron in order to spend the evening with me in a draughty corridor?"

Hermione felt herself bristle, but she refused to rise to his bait. Instead she elected for honesty. "Unfortunately, I've worked late one time too many already; my friends won't even think to look for me," she admitted.

"I've noticed you work extremely long hours."

She shot a look at Lucius, but his attention remained on his paperwork, his quill poised over a row of figures. He spoke almost absentmindedly, "You never bill for any overtime. Why is that?"

"Would you authorise it if I did?" Hermione glared over her shoulder at him. Lucius looked up and caught her staring. She was momentarily ensnared by his arresting grey gaze.

"Possibly," he said after a moment of consideration. "Your work is worthwhile, but that doesn't change the fact that the ministry is near bankrupt."

"Is it really that bad?" Hermione turned to face him, interested in spite of himself.

"I'm afraid so." Lucius lowered his paperwork to return her gaze. "Did you really think I was making all those cuts just to spite you, Miss Granger? My, my, you do have an overdeveloped sense of your own import."

Hermione ignored the casually slung barb.

"Why did you take the job?" she asked. "You certainly don't need the money."

The corner of Lucius' mouth twitched up infinitesimally. "No, I do not." He looked back down at his papers. "Let's just say I enjoy a challenge."

Hermione stared at him for a few minutes longer. She really had thought that Lucius was targeting her out of spite. With retrospect she felt a little embarrassed. The cuts he was making were nothing to do with her. She was nothing to him, nothing important anyway. She tried to make herself look away, but her eyes kept being drawn back to his stern countenance as he concentrated on his reading. He really was an attractive man if one were willing to overlook his rather shady past, she thought. There was not a hint of grey in his blond hair and the years had been exceptionally kind, with only a handful of fine lines around the corners of his eyes and mouth. She was surprised to note that their distribution indicated they had been formed by smiling rather than frowning. She supposed if she had given it any thought before she would have expected him to be flabby beneath those elaborate robes and embroidered waistcoats, but their earlier clinch suggested otherwise. She was surprised and horrified to feel a curl of heat in her belly as she stared at him. She closed her eyes and blinked several times. This was not supposed to happen. Extended exposure to Lucius should increase her hatred of him not incite this subtle liking. She bit her lip nervously. She needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

"Fine." She was embarrassed at the way her voice shook. "Just get on with it."

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius looked up again from his paperwork.

"You can kiss me."

He closed the folder and slowly returned it to his briefcase which he placed at his feet. "You understand there will be no financial recompense?"

"I do."

He turned himself fully so they were toe to toe. "Might I ask what has prompted this sudden about face?" His warm breath washed over her face.

"No," she snapped. "Just get on with it."

He stared down at her for a long long moment before his grey eyes flickered to her lips and he lowered his head, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

Hermione's own eyes drifted shut as she awaited his kiss. All she had to do was endure it for a few moments, she reassured herself. Afterwards she would be free to go and pretend that it had never happened. Then his lips were on hers and the most horrific of realisations swept over her. Kissing Lucius Malfoy was everything. It was pounding waves on a deserted beach. It was rockets launching in the desert and mushroom clouds blooming over the Pacific Ocean. It was subway doors closing at just the wrong moment. It was corks flying from champagne bottles and fireworks exploding and buildings collapsing. He kissed with the same meticulous attention to detail with which he had conducted his financial audit earlier that year, but Hermione found this process infinitely more satisfying. It was achingly brief and disturbingly thorough. The entire experience was over in less than a minute. It was so fleeting as to almost have not happened at all, but Hermione's entire world has been rocked irrefutably on its axis.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Your assistance is much appreciated." He stooped to retrieve his briefcase before he hesitated for a split second."This has been a most...enlightening interlude." Then he turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor in the direction of the lifts.

Hermione could only stare after him her fingers pressed against her lips where his mouth had so briefly rested. That had not just happened. It could not have happened. Whatever that had been she had clearly imagined it. She gathered her things together and made off down the hallway as fast as her legs could carry her. She firmly vowed never to think of the incident again.

By Monday morning it was almost entirely forgotten. She had packaged up his cloak and sent it back to him via an extremely disgruntled post owl. She had caught up with her friends on Saturday night and apologised profusely for missing the pre-Christmas party. She had refrained from doing any work and thrown herself into socialising. She had absolutely not thought about Lucius Malfoy and his cold eyes and surprisingly warm lips.

She was so busy not thinking about him that it took her several moments to spot the green and silver wrapped package on her desk when she entered the office on Monday morning.

"Where did this come from?" she asked her secretary who shrugged expansively.

"I don't know, it was there when I got in."

Hermione gingerly picked up the box. It was light and rattled a little when she shook it. After casting a number of detection charms which indicated that the item contained within was entirely benign, she examined it for any sort of label. There was none. Finally, she carefully undid the elaborate silver bow on top and lifted off the lid.

Inside were ten peacock feather quills.


	2. Christmas Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time Hermione gets stuck under the mistletoe... will Lucius be willing to help her out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry everyone. I meant to have this chapter up on Christmas Eve and it was written and edited in time...I just didn't have time to format it for posting. Next update should be on New Years Eve. 
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful Vitellia for her excellent beta skills.

According to the Anglo-Saxons, a man had to kiss any young girl who, without realising it, found herself accidentally under a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

~From the White Goddess~

It was after eleven on Christmas Eve when Hermione put down her quill and began to pack up her briefcase. Admittedly, she'd been killing time for the previous four hours. What irony that on the one day she has nowhere to go she had actually finished on time. She didn't want to go home. There, she'd admitted it to herself. She didn't want to go back to her empty flat on Christmas Eve.

It was the first time she had ever faced such a prospect and the decision not to go to the Burrow was hers and hers alone. Arthur, Molly and Ron himself had all made it clear that she was still welcome. But it was Lavenders first Christmas with the Weasleys and her first as Ron's fiancé. It didn't seem fair to inflict herself on the other girl for the whole of Christmas. As wonderful as the Weasleys had been to her since she had Obliviated her parents they were Ron's family, not hers.

They have all been so terribly, stomach churningly mature about it. Only Ginny saw fit to indulge in a display of temper to rival that of her toddler son when she heard Hermione wasn't coming for Christmas.

"But who will drink wine with me and roll their eyes and say 'boys' now?" She had demanded. "I can't stand Lavender. She's an insipid cow."

"She's really not that bad." Hermione hadn't quite been able to believe she was defending her old arch rival, but it was true. Lavender really wasn't that bad and she made Ron happy in a way Hermione knew she never would have.

"I don't want you to be on your own." Ginny had tried a new tack.

"I won't be on my own I'll have Crooks." Although Crookshanks had become increasingly flatulent in his old age and she wasn't sure if his company wasn't more of a curse than a blessing.

"He's a cat, Hermione. You need real human company."

"He's half Kneazle," she had countered, as if this made all the difference. "I'll be fine, Gin. I promise. It's just another day and you and Harry and James can bring me left overs on Boxing Day and tell me about the fight Percy got into with George and we'll drink too much wine then instead."

"Okay." Ginny had looked tearful, but mollified by Hermione's words. "I do love you, you know. I wish you were going to be my sister instead of Lav Lav."

"But then I'd have had to marry Won Won," Hermione had pointed out. Ginny had grudgingly conceded the point and they had hugged and promised to see each other on Boxing Day.

Now, Hermione rather regretted her magnanimity, but at least she was fully caught up with work and had the whole of January planned out already. She couldn't wait to pin down her boss and start bouncing around ideas. She paused at her desk and fingered a quill wondering if she ought to draft him a brief memo.

"Pull yourself together, Granger," she muttered under her breath. The quill really was lovely, she thought as she placed it and its companions back in her desk drawer safe from her pilfering office mates. She'd never had a self inking one before and it really was very useful, although she wished the ink were not quite such a lurid shade of green. She had tried very hard and had mainly been successful in her attempts not to think about the giver of the quill over the past few days. Yes, kissing Lucius Malfoy had been something of an epoch in her life, but since she was unlikely ever to do it again it was probably an experience best forgotten.

She locked up her office and made her way down the corridor toward the lifts. As she walked she considered the contents of her cupboards and tried without much success to formulate a recipe for a delicious festive snack comprised of Ovaltine and slightly yellowed Brie.

She was taken completely by surprise by a hooking sensation in her belly and gave a cry of horror as she was brought to an abrupt halt. For a full five minutes her brain refused to acknowledge the reality of her predicament as she struggled futilely against the enchantment holding her in , she gave up and looked above her head. Nestling amidst the pipes was an innocuous looking sprig of mistletoe.

"Shit," she muttered. Since Lucius had been caught she has been hyper vigilant and had annihilated the several sprigs that had lined her corridor with a well placed Reducto. Somebody must have seen fit to do a spot of redecorating whilst she had been cloistered in her office actually getting on with work. She reached for her wand fully intending to attempt to blast the sprig out of existence only to have a sick feeling of dread settle in her stomach. She remembered placing her wand on her desk as she had picked up her coat and briefcase. With equal clarity she remembered leaving it there as she exited the office.

"Shit," she said again.

Now she couldn't even send a patronus to Harry in order to beg him to take pity on her. She sighed heavily.

"Think, Hermione," she ordered herself. "There must be a way out of this."

If there was a way out it did not present itself immediately. As far as Hermione could see she was stuck here until the offices reopened on the 27th of December. Her solitary Christmas with her flatulent cat seemed positively euphoric now.

She was startled by the sound of a door closing at the far end of the hallway. She turned to see a familiar figure moving down the corridor away from her. Lucius Malfoy had just emerged from one of the reading rooms. He was dressed in his winter cloak and his hair fanned out slightly behind him as he strode down the corridor. Hermione froze. Here was her salvation. All she had to do was call his name. Except she didn't want to. Because Lucius was the last man in the world she wanted to kiss. Precisely because he had somehow become the only man in the world she wanted to kiss.

If only she had her wand. Then she could ask Harry to come and help her, or Argus Filch, or the unpleasant man with the hairy wart who worked in the canteen and tried to look down her blouse when he thought she wasn't looking (she was always looking).

"What sort of a witch are you anyway?" she quietly chastised herself. "You forgot your wand now you have to deal with the consequences."

Malfoy was getting further away. Pretty soon he'd be gone.

"Mr Malfoy." Well she hadn't known that was coming out of her mouth.

He stopped with his back still turned to her and Hermione watched with bated breath as he hesitated for a split second. He was deciding whether to ignore her or not she thought - arrogant prig.

"Miss Granger." He turned around and walked back up the corridor toward her. "Well, well, Well, you seem to have got yourself into a spot of bother." His eyes flicked to the mistletoe and an unpleasant smile played around his lips.

"Some idiot planted this outside my office." Hermione glared around as if she might spot the miscreant making off down the corridor.

"Really," Lucius' voice dripped scorn. "Perhaps you have a secret admirer willing to go to any length in order to steal a Christmas kiss." His eyes swept the length of her body. "Or perhaps not."

Hermione scowled, but forced herself to bite back the stinging retort which hovered on the tip of her tongue. She could not afford to piss Malfoy off she reminded herself. She folded her arms and tilted her head to one side hoping he would pick up on her unspoken request.

"Yes?" His head tilt mirrored hers. "Was there something?"

She sighed. "I need you to help me, please."

"Help you? I'm not sure I understand."

Oh he understood alright. The malicious twinkle in his grey eyes made him even more attractive. How irritating.

She sighed again.

"I need you to kiss me."

"Kiss you?" He feigned confusion. "But what was it you said?" He tapped his fingers against his lips. "You'd sooner kiss a basilisk. Should I try and fetch one?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped.

"I wasn't aware I was being ridiculous." He ostentatiously adjusted his cuffs. He was even more smartly dressed than usual, she noticed. "Surely you don't need the likes of me to kiss you. I imagine your knight in shining armour will be here at any moment, why haven't you called for help?"

"I left my wand in my office," Hermione muttered.

"You what?" Lucius exaggeratedly cupped his ear.

"I left my wand in my office," she shouted.

"Now, now, my dear. No need to shout." A sculpted brow rose to meet his blond hairline. "How unfortunate for you to make such an oversight. I can imagine you may not encounter anyone else until after Christmas…but surely your loyal friends will come to look for you eventually?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Anyone would think he was a legilimens he was so irritatingly good at pushing her buttons.

"They're not expecting me until Boxing Day," she answered tightly. "Which is why I need your help, Mr Malfoy. I did help you out of a similar predicament, didn't I?"

"You did," Lucius agreed. He furrowed his brow. "Although I do recall you were not entirely willing...Indeed, I believe you tried to gain rather a lot of leverage." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So tell me, Miss Granger, what can you offer me?"

"I shouldn't have to offer you anything, it's just common decency."

"Really? Common decency, is it?" Lucius' voice had taken on a terrifyingly caressing timbre. "But what was it you said I lacked...the most basic of moral compass' wasn't it?" He tutted in an apologetic manner and spread his hands in faux regret. "It appears I'm all out of decency, common or otherwise."

"Fine," Hermione snapped. "What do you want?"

"No, no, no," he wagged an admonishing finger. "That is not at all how this works. Where would the fun in that be? You offer something and then I enjoy rejecting it." He folded his arms. "Proceed."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Immensely."

Hermione couldn't help but wonder what a man like Lucius was doing still in the ministry at almost midnight on Christmas Eve taunting a low level employee. Surely he should be out enjoying some sort of glittering ball… She dragged her mind away from Lucius and his social life or lack of it and considered her assets. What on earth did you offer the man who had everything? Start small she thought.

"My half Kneazle has got his girlfriend pregnant," she ventured. "By the end of February I should be able to offer you a three-quarter Kneazle." For a split second she was almost certain that a smile had flitted its way across his face, but it was gone so quickly she could only guess she'd imagined it.

"It's going to take more than a mongrel cat to entice me under the mistletoe, Miss Granger."

She had feared as much although she was very much looking forward to meeting. Crooks' progeny.

Hmm, so not companionship. Power then?

"I notice you reapplied for the Hogwarts board of governors. I would be willing to support your application. She'd been thinking of resigning anyway."

"My application has already been accepted," he said dismissively. His grey eyes were intent. It was clear he did want something, but what?

"I'll fetch you tea every morning for a week…at your desk," she added when the eyebrow shot up again.

"That is tempting." His fingers tapped his lips again. "But no."

"Urgh!" Hermione couldn't contain the guttural sound. "What then? If you're not going to do it then just tell me. Stop teasing."

"Like you teased me?" he asked mildly.

"That was different."

"In what way?" He took another step toward her. He was very close now. Another step and she suspected he would be caught too. She refused to look up at the mistletoe.

"Because our circumstances are completely different." She pursed her lips in order to add some gravitas to what she knew was a rather shaky argument.

"I don't follow," Lucius said in a voice which indicated he very much did follow, but he was going to make her spell it out. Fine then, she would spell it out.

"I'm me," she said, gesturing toward herself. "I'm a nice person, a kind person. I deserve to be helped out of a tight spot."

"I see." Lucius' voice had an edge to it. "So Hermione Granger, war hero and all round golden girl, deserves help, but Lucius Malfoy, ex-Death Eater, should be left to rot, is that what you're saying?"

"Hardly left to rot," Hermione pointed out. "Just left to cool his heels in the corridor for a bit, that's all."

Lucius' eyes went flat.

"Well in that case you won't mind being left in this corridor. Good evening, Miss Granger." He gave a curt nod and turned on his heel.

Shit! He was really going to leave.

"No! Wait, Mr Malfoy, wait, please."

Hermione pulled herself to the limit of the enchantment as she tried to follow him.

"I didn't leave you, did I? Not under the mistletoe or to rot in Azkaban. Please don't leave me here." She felt her lip begin to wobble. "It's Christmas."

Lucius stopped and stood with his back to her.

"Why?" he eventually asked.

"Why what?"

"Why, after everything that happened. After all you endured, did you testify on my behalf?"

"Oh." Hermione shrugged although he still wasn't looking at her. "I didn't testify on your behalf. I simply told the truth."

"And what truth was that?"

"That when you had us in your custody you were without a wand and in no state to help or hinder us from leaving and that during the Battle of Hogwarts you were far too preoccupied with the whereabouts of your son to even consider fighting. You kept yourself out of prison, Mr Malfoy, just."

He turned slowly and stared at her for a long time. She stared back as boldly as possible although the burning scrutiny of those pavement grey eyes was hard to endure.

"My ex-wife is holding a New Year's Eve party. I want you to come with me."

Hermione was gobsmacked. She continued to stare open mouthed at him.

"Yes or no, Miss Granger. I really don't have all night."

"Why?" she eventually asked.

"Why what?" He echoed her earlier question.

"Why do you want me to come?"

He rolled his eyes and answered with biting sarcasm, "Because I've been secretly in love with you for months and none of my attempts to garner your attention have been successful! The why is none of your business. Yes or no?"

Hermione thought for a minute. Maybe it was an elaborate plot to kidnap and murder her, but he didn't seem particularly murderous these days. He was more businesslike and professional. She would make sure her friends knew where she was, and it would provide an interesting insight into the upper echelons of pureblood society.

Lucius was tapping his foot impatiently against the carpeted floor.

"It was a simple invitation, Miss Granger; hardly a marriage proposal. I can't imagine why it requires such deliberation."

"I'll come." Did she imagine the blaze of triumph that briefly bloomed in his eyes?

"Excellent." He stepped forward and, clearly unwilling to give her any opportunity to renege, wrapped her in his arms. He bent her back far enough that her vertebrae creaked and then his lips were on hers and oh sweet Merlin it was happening again.

Fanfares of trumpets went off in her ears. Hundreds of ladies in bloomers danced the Cancan and huge breakers pounded down on the white sands of a deserted beach as his mouth pressed against hers. He was a lot more thorough on this occasion. Despite his assertion that he had somewhere else to be he kissed her as if they had all the time in the world. His lips were sinfully soft as they caressed every inch of her mouth. One hand speared into the hair at the nape of her neck in order to position her at just the right angle and her hips were dragged up against his. The evening chill had crept into the corridor once more, but Lucius was searingly hot against her and Hermione couldn't help but grind herself closer against him.

Almost without thinking she parted her lips and then made a sound of surprise deep in her throat as his tongue swept into her mouth. That had definitely not happened last time. Nor had his teeth fastened around her lower lip or his large hand splayed so confidently against her backside. And she couldn't do anything but kiss him back because kissing him was like the first glass of champagne at a wedding or the first bite of a baguette warm out the oven spread thickly with salted butter. It was delicious and indulgent and not entirely good for her and Hermione just wanted more. Somewhere far off in the distance she heard a clock begin to strike. On the twelfth stroke Lucius gently released her his fingers lingering in her hair for a moment.

Hermione stared up at him panting slightly. Then she dropped her lids over her eyes because she had absolutely no idea what to do or say and the entire encounter had become too intimate for her to deal with.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Granger." The warmth of his words took some of the sting out of his withdrawal as he released her. "I shall see you on New Year's Eve." He pressed his lips to hers once more in a brief hard kiss and then stepped out from under the mistletoe and turned as if to leave. He paused for a second then turned back. "I may be interested in one of the bastard kittens. Owl me if there's a white one." He turned on his heel and strode off down the corridor before she had a chance to respond.


	3. New Years Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius takes Hermione to a truly magical New Years Eve party. There's no mistletoe, but we all know what you have to do at the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is later than I had planned. We had a sick baby over New Year... next chapter will be up in a few minutes.

In some Western cultures, it is a custom for people to kiss at the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve. Some hold the superstition that failing to kiss someone ensures a year of loneliness.

~ New Years Traditions ~

"What's it like when you kiss Harry?" Hermione tried to keep her voice casual and avoided looking at Ginny by taking a sip of her mulled wine.

"Sticky usually." Ginny's voice was slightly muffled as she spoke around several kirby grips she had wedged between her lips for safe keeping.

"Sticky?"

"Mmhmm. James like to get in between us as much as possible." Ginny shoved a kirby none to gently into the updo she was currently creating in Hermione's birds nest hair.

"Oh, right. I see." This was not really the information Hermione was looking for. "But when James isn't around...or when you were first together, what was it like then?" She watched in the vanity mirror as Ginny's gaze grew far away.

"When we were teenagers it was amazing. At first it was like every kiss was stolen and might be our last. It was incredible." She shoves another grip into Hermione's curls. "It wasn't just the kissing though. Back then, just the sight of Harry made me feel like I'd been punched in the stomach." She smiled and took a sip of her own drink. "Those feelings don't last forever, not in my experience anyway, but kissing is still pretty wonderful." She gave a goofy grin and looked away a slight blush colouring her cheeks. "Why do you ask anyway?"

"Oh, I just wondered." Hermione fiddled with the box of pins on the table. "It wasn't really like that when I kissed Ron."

"Eugh, I can imagine." Ginny shuddered. "Please don't talk about kissing my brother, you know it creeps me out."

"Sorry." Hermione grinned and lapsed into silence trying not to to wince as Ginny continued to torture her with a comb.

They were close she and Ginny. Really close. Their failed relationship had, of course, driven a wedge between herself and Ron and her friendship with Harry had inevitably changed now that he was a husband and father, but things had only gone from strength to strength with Ginny. The redheaded witch was Hermione's closest female friend. She would have unhesitatingly said she could tell her anything. Right up until the point when Lucius Malfoy had unexpectedly set her world on fire.

"There's a lot of mistletoe around the ministry this year," Hermione volunteered. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"That's a bit inappropriate for a work environment, don't you think?"

"I suppose." Hermione hadn't really thought about it, which was, in itself, indicative of something fairly major going on. She was always thinking about her work environment. "Anyway I got stuck under it on Christmas Eve."

"You didn't!" Ginny paused in her ministrations to stare at Hermione in the mirror. "How awful. Why didn't you send us a patronus? I'd have sent Harry off to save you...or maybe Percy," she added mischievously.

"Don't laugh, but I'd left my wand in my office. Honestly, I thought I'd be there until Boxing Day."

"You probably would have been." Ginny laughed too. "So I'm guessing somebody found you?"

"Yup."

"Who?" Ginny's expression became more intent as if she realised that they were reaching the crux of whatever it was Hermione wasn't entirely sure she wanted to talk about.

"Mr Malfoy," Hermione said very quietly.

"Draco? I bet he loved that, you know he had a terrible crush on you at school? I can just imagine him swooping in as your knight in shining arm— oh…You didn't say Draco, did you?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Lucius...Lucius Malfoy found you?"

Hermione nodded.

"What did he do?"

"He was very accomodating." Hermione decided not to mention the previous week when she had found him in a similar predicament.

"Very accommodating in a kissing sort of way?"

Hermione nodded again almost dislodging the still precarious pile of curls on top of her head.

"Careful!" Ginny stabbed wildly with a pin as if trying to impale a rabid animal. "I can't believe you kissed Lucius Malfoy a week ago and you're only just telling me now."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it." She wasn't sure how she felt about it either.

"Intrigued mainly." Ginny took another sip of her drink. "I can't believe he actually kissed you. No offence, of course, you're beautiful, but he's a complete snob."

"I know." Hermione frowned. "He didn't seem concerned about my filthy blood at all."

"I have heard he's mellowed." Ginny returned to her self appointed task as hairdresser.

"Who did you hear that from?"

"Well, Draco mainly." Draco was the seeker on Ginny's quidditch team. "He still talks about his father as much as he ever did. But a few other people too. Dad's been very impressed with the work he's been doing at the Ministry since he was appointed."

"Really?" Hermione fought the urge to turn around. "All I've seen him do is cut people's budgets."

"And by people you mean you?"

"Well...yes."

"I don't think it's a personal vendetta. From what Dad says the ministry's finances were in a pretty bad way before he took them in hand."

Hermione tilted her head back in an attempt to look at Ginny's face rather than her reflection.

"Why are you of all people defending Lucius Malfoy?"

A tinge of colour appeared in Ginny's cheeks.

"I'm not defending him." She attacked a snarl in Hermione's hair with unnecessary vigour. "I'm just saying he's changed so if you were to be stuck under the mistletoe with him again it wouldn't be such a bad thing as far as I'm concerned."

"Really?"

"Yes really. Hermione, it's been nearly two years since you and Ron broke up and I know you haven't been with anyone else. For all you know your hymen might have grown back!"

Hermione choked on her mulled wine.

"Ginny!" she finally managed to gasp. "If he encounters my hymen during kissing then things have gone dramatically wrong." She took a deep breath. "I'm actually going out with him tonight. Ouch!" Ginny had just smacked her shoulder, hard.

"You sly dog. I thought you were going to a work thing."

"Well he does work with me." Hermione rubbed her arm and tried to look wounded.

"You know what I meant. Shit...you're going out with Lucius Malfoy," Ginny started ripping pins out of the nearly finished hairstyle. "This just isn't going to cut it."

She had elected to meet Lucius at the ministry. He may be genuinely reformed, or at least less of a threat than he had been, but she still didn't want him knowing her address. Or Maybe she just didn't trust herself with him in the confined space of her flat. He had accepted her instructions with a disdainful sniff which served to convey exactly what he thought of her outlandish Muggle ideas.

In an effort to further aggravate her nemesis she had elected to dress in a distinctly Muggle style in skinny satin tuxedo trousers and a grey silk blouse. Ginny had raised an eyebrow at the ensemble.

"You look gorgeous, of course, but I'm not sure Lucius actually knows that witches aren't triangular beneath the waist. He might not cope."

"He can cope or I'll leave." Hermione wished that she could recapture that sense of bravado now as she waited for Lucius on the Ministry steps.

He appeared suddenly next to her while she was looking in the opposite direction.

"Miss Granger."

She shrieked, actually shrieked. So much for suave sophistication.

"Is something the matter?" Malfoy smirked at her.

"No,no." She shook her head exaggeratedly. "I'm just excited."

"Really?" He extended his arm for her. "Would That Narcissa's parties had such an effect on me."

Hermione cautiously placed her hand on his arm. Warm tingles ran up her fingers as she touched him. She frowned. Why on earth did he have to stimulate that sort of response? Other men didn't. Why did bloody Malfoy make her feel all warm and tingly?

"Where are we going?" She looked up at him.

"A private home. It's not far; I had thought we could walk although I'm happy to apparate if you prefer."

"Walking is fine...hang on a minute." She gave him an accusatory stare. "You can't apparate."

"Can't I? Fortunately, I was not informed of this limitation prior to my apparating here a few moments ago."

"But...but...your wand."

"What about it?" He raised his cane and pulled his wand out just far enough for her to see the shaft.

"I thought?"

"Yes?"

She squared her shoulders. "I thought it had been confiscated as per the terms of your probation."

"The Minister saw fit to alter those terms as compensation for my...now what did he say...exemplary behaviour and sterling effort in the role as Minister for finance." He looked indescribably smug.

Hermione snorted. "You clearly haven't cut any budgets which prevent him from doing his job."

"Well that would be counterproductive, wouldn't it?" Lucius gave her a supercilious look. "I only cut the budgets of those without enough power to retaliate."

"You..you…"

"Yes, I quite understand the sentiment," Lucius interrupted her enraged stuttering. "Now, might you consider chastising me as we walk? We do want to reach the party before midnight after all."

Lost for words, Hermione allowed him to lead her through the streets. Trust Malfoy to come out on top, she thought. His probation had years left to run and yet, he had easily circumnavigated one of the most punitive clauses. The man would be running the country before his sentence was over at this rate.

They walked in silence save for the sound of Hermione's heels and the tip of Lucius' cane against the cobblestones. It wasn't long before they entered a residential district. The brick townhouses towered above them. Hermione didn't know the area well. Her salary wouldn't even stretch to a one bedroom flat here.

"Is this where Mrs Malfoy lives now?"

"It is." Lucius' face was expressionless. "She won the house in our divorce settlement."

"I hadn't realised you were divorced...before." She gestured helplessly. "I didn't bring your wife up in order to hurt you, I wouldn't do that. I'm sorry…"

Lucius looked down at her as if she were a particularly fascinating exhibit in a museum.

"Why would you be sorry?"

"For your divorce."

"But why would you be sorry? You don't know me at all or my ex-wife. I have no intention to apologise for the demise of your relationship with Weasley junior."

"I was just being polite." Hermione felt her hackles rise. "Of course I don't really care - you could be crying into your spreadsheets every night and I wouldn't give a nifflers pouch. And what do you know about my relationships anyway?"

"Enough," Lucius said succinctly. He lowered his head a little so his breath brushed her ear.

"If all were well between you and Weasley you would hardly be here with me on New Years Eve, would you?"

The question was rhetorical and she couldn't answer anyway because she was so breathless from his almost touch. Lust pooled in her belly and she fought it down, horror struck that this man should inspire such a feeling.

"We're here." Lucius stopped outside a huge townhouse with an enormous Christmas tree lighting up the bay window. They made their way up the flight of steps to the double fronted doors which were guarded by a fierce looking wizard with a foot long guest list.

"Mr Malfoy." He bowed his head as soon as he saw Lucius and didn't bother to consult the list before he ushered them through the doors into the warmth and bustle of a massive entrance hall. Hermione tried not to gape although all she really wanted to do was spin around in a slow circle and take in everything around her. The house was a perfect example of Georgian architecture with the faux classical touches suiting the ostentatious Malfoys perfectly. She craned her neck uncomfortably as she admired the intricate cornice work high above her.

A house elf clad in a gleaming white pillow case materialised beside them and Lucius handed it his cloak gesturing for Hermione to do this same. As she revealed her outfit he did an exaggerated double take.

"How charming, you've come as one of the waiting staff."

She was about to deliver a really acerbic and witty put down when a bell like voice rang out,

"Lucius, you came." Narcissa Malfoy was every bit as tall, pale and icily beautiful as Hermione remembered. Her hair was intricately pulled away from her face and the style was accentuated with huge glittering diamonds. She had chosen to wear white; a slinky glittering affair with a plunging neckline. She reminded Hermione a little of the white witch in Narnia. But, for all her beauty, Narcissa looked brittle. She was just on the wrong side of skinny and radiated a restless nervous energy which set Hermione's teeth on edge. She kissed Lucius soundly on both cheeks depositing a smear of lipstick, and her palm rested briefly yet possessively on his chest. Hermione might have been jealous, but she couldn't help but notice the way Lucius had stiffened at Narcissa's greeting and did not reciprocate either her kisses or her embrace.

"And who have you brought, Lucius?" She turned to Hermione her smile dying on her lips in a manner that might have been comical had it not been so offensive.

"I believe you and Miss Granger are acquainted?" Lucius placed his hand solicitously at Hermione's elbow, she fought the urge to pull away from the blazing heat of his touch.

"Miss Granger, charmed I'm sure." she looked anything but. "What an interesting outfit."

"Good evening, Mrs Malfoy." Hermione looked around. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you." Narcissa's eyes flicked to Lucius. "It's actually Ms Black, now."

"Oh, I do apologise." Hermione looked back and forth from Lucius to Narcissa. She had no idea what was going on between the divorced couple and she assured herself she had no desire to know, but Lucius radiated displeasure from every orifice and Narcissa pressed her blood red lips together as if she has scored some sort of point. Before Hermione had time to really consider what she was doing and how it might be construed she reached up and wiped the smear of red lipstick from Lucius' cheek with her thumb. His mouth twitched as if he almost just not quite smiled. Narcissa breathed in sharply.

"Well, I should get back to my other guests. Enjoy your evening." she swept away in a swirl of glittering white.

Her mind made up, Hermione grabbed hold of Lucius' sleeve and dragged him into as unobtrusive a corner as she could find

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded in an angry whisper.

Lucius looked pointedly at where her small hand crumpled the fabric of his sleeve. She released him and absentmindedly smoothed out the worst of the creases. "Answer me," she added."

"I am not obliged to explain myself to you."

"No, you're not." She straightened her spine. "But if you don't then I shall leave. I agreed to accompany you here and I've done it. I don't want to be some sort of pawn in whatever game you and your ex-wife are playing."

To her surprise a look of confusion flitted across his marble countenance. It was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I thought I had made myself quite clear." He frowned and Hermione took a nervous step back from him.

"Clear about what?" She had lost the thread of their conversation somewhere along the way and it was making her tetchy.

"Never mind." He had gone all cold and aristocratic again. "You are free to leave, Miss Granger. Would you like me to escort you home?"

"What? No!" Hermione looked around the massive hallway which was decked out for the festive season with oversized holly wreaths and piles of real snow at the feet of several lavishly decorated trees. Glittering guests mingled in the enchanted woodland and Hermione secretly mourned the loss of the opportunity to witness such a spectacle. She hadn't even made it to the ballroom. She wasn't sure what Lucius' game was. Perhaps he was simply using her to score points off Narcissa. Whilst she would prefer not to be used in such a manner the truth was she would much rather be here amongst the glittering wizarding elite than at home with Crookshanks and the cheap bottle of supermarket prosecco she had put in the fridge in case the evening went wrong.

"No I don't want to leave." She gazed up at him, willing him to understand. I want you to convince me to stay.

"Oh." He brightened a little at her words before he narrowed his eyes and gave her a calculating look. "Why do you want to stay?"

"So I can watch the beautiful people enjoying themselves," she answered promptly.

"You do not count yourself amongst the beautiful people?"

She laughed in his face.

"It's alright, Mr Malfoy, you don't have to pretend not to think you're better than me. These people," she gestured vaguely around the hallway "have nothing in common with me. As you would have it we're barely even the same species. I'm fascinated to have the opportunity to observe them in their natural habitat."

"You mean to gawk at us as if we were exhibits in a Muggle zoo?"

"Pretty much." She looked up at him through her eyelashes wondering if she were really trying to flirt with Lucius Malfoy. "Do you have a problem with that?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Absolutely not." He extended his arm once more. "Perhaps I could play the role of zookeeper?"

She couldn't stop the bark of surprised laughter which erupted from her lips as she took his arm once more.

Throughout their acquaintance Lucius had been many things: cruel, scathing, arrogant, and austere to name a few. She had never known him to be funny. But, she had to admit when his sharp wit was turned elsewhere it was extremely diverting. He was also incredibly indiscreet.

"That's my cousin Cecil." He indicated in the direction of a slim weak chinned wizard whose blond hair was his only similarity to Lucius. "He's married to an American heiress." He inclined his head politely at the couple as they swept past. "But he never sleeps with her because he prefers fucking his sister."

"Lucius!" Hermione felt a blush colour her cheeks. There was something delightfully debauched at the way he said fucking in those rich plummy tones of his. It made her stomach flip. "How do you know?" she asked when he seemed unrepentant.

"He's not the only one who enjoys fucking his sister. She told me all about it."

"Hold on." He was moving through the crowd so swiftly she had to grasp his arm in order to keep up with him. He stopped and she ended up plastered against him her fists against his chest. His hand automatically clasped her hip in order to steady her. "I'm confused. Whose sister do you enjoy fucking?"

Lucius looked down at her frowning. "Do keep up, my dear. I'm not currently fucking anyone's sister and if you are accusing me of sharing Cecil's proclivities I can assure you that I am an only child." He paused for a second and tapped his fingers against his lips. "Although if I were to have an identical twin then I cannot guarantee I would be able to resist her!"

He set off again across the ballroom with Hermione trailing in his wake the unwelcome thought of two Lucius' engaged in all sorts of lascivious acts firmly wedged in her mind.

"Do you dance, Miss Granger?" They were on the edge of the dance floor where numerous couples whirled in a fast waltz. Hermione nodded nervously and Lucius seemed to take that as her acquiescence as he pulled her into his arms and drew her out onto the floor.

If kissing Lucius had been spectacular then dancing with him was something else. Hermione thought it might actually be better than sex. His body was so big and hard against hers and he smelt so sinfully good. She had to restrain herself from rubbing up against him like an animal hoping to be scent marked. Oh God, she was infatuated. The thought was utterly horrifying. She absolutely must not let him know. She could imagine having those cold grey eyes and scathing intellect turned back on herself once more and she didn't relish the thought one bit. She would just enjoy the dancing and not think about the warmth between her thighs or the tumble of nerves in her chest every time he bent his head to whisper more poisonous asides in her ear.

She was a competent dancer at best, but in Lucius' arms she felt capable of anything. She executed steps she didn't even know she knew. She felt like a princess and he looked at her as if she were one. The warm candlelight somehow softened his austere features and more than a ghost of a smile hovered over his lips as he kept up a running commentary on every couple that set foot on the floor. Hermione's head spun with information. He told her who was sleeping with who, who had been sleeping with who and no longer was, who was involved in insider trading, who was not involved in insider trading, but wished they were, who Lucius considered trustworthy and who he did not, who was dangerously over stretched at Gringotts and who had money to burn. It was dizzying.

"How do you have room for all of this in your head?"

Lucius paused in his dissertation on the history of the emerald tiara the witch across the dance floor was wearing.

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "Generally if somebody tells me something I remember it." Hermione nodded, that she could understand.

"But how do you cope with all that information rattling around inside your brain? I'm filled to the gunwales. I can't talk to any of these people for fear something terribly inappropriate will overflow."

Lucius managed to give a nonchalant shrug whilst still dancing. "I can say whatever I like. Before the war I was so important nobody dared trifle with me, and now I'm so disgraced that nobody cares either way. It's terribly freeing."

Hermione regarded him closely. "You're telling the truth, aren't you?"

"It does not come naturally, I assure you. I'm going to a great deal of effort to be honest with you, Miss Granger."

"Why would you do that?"

His mouth was against her ear again and she trembled as she waited for his response. She didn't really care what he was going to say. She just wanted to feel his hot breath against her skin once more.

It never came. Instead, an irritatingly melodious voice said, "Do you mind if I cut in? I haven't see you all evening, Lucius darling."

"I'm pretty sure cutting in is a gentleman's prerogative," Hermione muttered under her breath as Lucius was expertly extracted from her arms and borne away to dance with Narcissa. She was slightly mollified by the apologetic look he cast in her direction. It was rather cold comfort though and she retired to the edge of the dancefloor to lick her wounds.

There wasn't a single other person in the room that she knew well enough to talk to. Even Draco would be a welcome distraction, but he was conspicuous in his absence. Instead, she was forced to watch the Malfoys circle the floor. They were beautiful together. They reminded her of the two by two animals in a Noah's ark set with their flowing golden manes and perfectly matched long limbed bodies. Narcissa's smaller and more delicate frame a perfect foil to Lucius' elegant height. The were engaged in an intense conversation and Hermione watched with interest as Narcissa scowled in displeasure at whatever Lucius was saying. Her red nails dug briefly into his back as if to emphasize her point and he pulled away a little. Hermione didn't have to be able to lip read to interpret his reprimand. Then he is pulled away from his ex-wife and headed straight across the dance floor in her direction, apparently unconscious of the couples whose dancing his trajectory interrupted.

Hermione quickly began to admire the pot plant behind which she was half hidden and was engaged in intense scrutiny of its roots when Lucius appeared at her side with two glasses of champagne.

"It's nearly midnight," he said softly.

"Is it?" Hermione was surprised. The evening had passed incredibly quickly and she was sorry it would soon be over. She still wasn't sure why Malfoy had invited her.

"I apologise for that interruption."

"She's not an interruption, she's your wife—"

"Ex-wife."

Hermione shrugged and took a gulp of her champagne. "She doesn't look very ex to me."

Narcissa was glaring at them from across the room.

"I assure you the feelings are entirely one sided. She proposed a reconciliation and I rejected her proposal."

"Oh." Hermione stared up at him, wondering why on earth he was telling her this. "Are you sure that's the right decision? I mean, you two were together a long time."

"I am absolutely sure." Lucius' tone is emphatic. "Perhaps six months ago I might have felt differently, but now…"

"Now what? You know maybe you should go to couples counselling, I've heard that can be very useful, especially for couples who have been through a traumatic shared experience—"

"This is quite the most peculiar date I have ever been on."

Hermione stared up at him wide-eyed as her overtired brain struggled to process his words.

This is a date? "This is a date?" She hadn't meant to sound quite so incredulous.

BONG

The large grandfather clock in the hallway let out a chime to rival that of Big Ben and the room went still with expectation.

"Of course it is. What did you think it was?"

"Some sort of nefarious plan engineered to maneuver me into doing something I didn't want to?"

"Well I did plan on maneuvering you into doing something, but I was rather hopeful we might both want to do it."

BONG

"I sought advice from several half-blood acquaintances. Apparently the procedure is no different in Muggle culture. I ascertained your sexual interest, then issued an invitation which you accepted. How could you have thought it was anything other than a date?"

"Because you hate me."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

BONG

"I don't know, maybe because of that time you tried to kill me?"

"Oh please, that was years ago. And besides I wasn't really trying. If I had really been trying to kill you you would be dead already."

BONG

"What about all the times you cut my budget?"

"I've made fewer cuts to your budget than any other department."

"But you said my reports were overlong, tedious and filled with unnecessary extraneous detail."

"They are, but that's hardly a reason to hate you."

BONG

"Why did you agree to come if you thought I was up to no good?"

"I really don't want to say." Think of a lie, think of a lie… "I really wanted you to kiss me." Fuck! Not a lie.

"To get away from the mistletoe?"

"Yes...and...other reasons."

BONG

"What other reasons?"

Because up until that point, kissing you was the most erotic experience of my entire life. "I'd really rather not say."

BONG

"I don't understand why you would want to go out with me."

"Don't you?"

"No."

BONG

"You don't think I might have noticed how hard you work, that you're always first to arrive at work and the last to leave?"

"You would have to work even longer hours in order to notice those things. Besides, a strong work ethic is hardly an alluring trait."

BONG

"You don't think I admire you for being the only witch, Muggle born or otherwise, who dares to stand up to me?"

"I thought I infuriated you."

BONG

"And do you think me so blind that I would have completely failed to notice how beautiful you've become and just how delicious your backside looks in those decidedly odd trousers?"

"It's perfectly normal for a woman to wear trousers in this day and age."

"Are you always going to wilfully misunderstand everything I say?"

"Probably."

BONG

"Would you have said yes if you'd known I was asking you on a date?"

I don't know.

BONG

"Happy New Year!" the assembled crowd shouted uproariously. All around them couples locked lips in New Year kisses both chaste and explicit.

Hermione stared up at Lucius aware that the ball was now situated firmly in her court. She hadn't answered his question and he, in a distinctly unslytherin fashion, had laid all his cards on the table. She still found it hard to believe that he was genuinely interested in her, but he had certainly gone to great lengths to convince her that he was, and who was she to argue with Lucius Malfoy? Yet, he appeared unmoving and she realised that if she wanted things to proceed she would have to be the one to take the initiative this time.

Her eyes traced the sensual line of his slightly parted lips. She took a single tentative step, which brought her body flush up against his, and placed her hands on either side of his face. He didn't resist as she stood on tiptoe and pulled his face towards hers and she caught a hint of his satisfied smile before their lips met once more.

And it was even better than it had been before. This time Torvill and Dean danced the final sequence of Bolero and Pavarotti held the last note of Nessun Dorma and Superman blasted his way into outer space and… she was kissing Lucius Malfoy. And it felt as if this was what was always meant to happen. As if every star in the cosmoverse had aligned and somebody had written The End across her life in gold swirly writing and the Big Bang was happening right in front of her eyes. He pinned her against a conveniently situated Greco-Roman pillar. His hands were in her hair,no doubt ruining all of Ginny's hard work, and then one was on her backside kneading and squeezing her flesh through her much maligned trousers and she was scrabbling at his robes because she wanted to touch him too. She started to feel dizzy and a little faint, but still she refused to pull away because once this kiss was over there might not be another. Finally, when black spots were blooming behind her eyes, Lucius released her. He was breathing heavily and she could feel the rapid staccato beat of his heart against her own chest as he stared down at her. The blaze of triumph in his grey eyes was unmistakable.

"So, Miss Granger." There was a faint tremor in his voice which she could tell he was trying hard to conceal. "What happens now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Vitellia for beta reading for me. Her wonderful story, Past Imperfect is on fan fiction . net.


	4. New Years Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius finds out what happens next...there might be some smut!

"What happens next?"

She gazed up at him and realised he looked like she felt. He was panting as if he had run a marathon. His pupils were dilated so only a thin rim of silver grey was visible around their edges and his lips were slightly puffy from the force of their clinch. He looked thoroughly debauched and she felt her blush spreading at the thought of what they had just done in the crowded ballroom. Her hands still rested on the front of his waistcoat and she realised that she had been trying, fortunately without success, to disrobe him here in front of hundreds of people. Embarrassment coursed through her. Of course she didn't care what the likes of Narcissa thought of her, but she was aware her behaviour was barely skirting the boundaries of decency. What was it about this man that caused her to behave in such a wanton manner?

He was still looking down expectantly at her and she almost wanted to snap at him that she had no idea what happened next. He was always one step ahead in all of their political maneuvering why couldn't he just take the lead here too? Tell her what to do and absolve her of the responsibility of any decision making? Something told her that he would not grant her such absolution.

He was still holding on to her though. His hands rested lightly on her hips and one of his thumbs circled absentmindedly above her waist band circling the silky material of her blouse against her sensitive skin.

"What do you want to happen?" She kept her eyes fixed on the jeweled pin at his throat as she attempted to shift the focus of attention from herself. His lips curved a fraction of a degree upwards and he shifted his hips pressing himself briefly against her.

"I think I have made myself abundantly clear, don't you?" His lips were millimetres away from her ear and his hot breath blazed a trail across the nerve endings of her neck. Her fingers twitched as she repressed the urge to palm the erection he had pressed so flagrantly against her belly.

"We should leave."

"Yes, I have no desire to create a public spectacle."

Hermione glanced around the room, numerous gazes were averted as she did so. "I think we may be too late in that regard." She chewed her lip. She was going to have her way with Lucius Malfoy. What an unexpected development. Her dilemma now lay in the location of their tryst. She couldn't face the idea of returning to Malfoy Manor. The thought made the bile rise in her throat - not a sexy feeling. She supposed that left her own home. The one she hadn't wanted him in earlier.

She took a deep breath and summoned her courage.

"Would you escort me home?" She tried to keep the uncertainty from her voice as she made her request.

"I'd be delighted."

She wasn't sure if his words were an automatic response borne from years of conditioning or if he understood the 'will you take me home and shag me?' subtext of what she was saying, or if he was merely happy to take her home. Whichever it was it was time to leave.

They collected their cloaks from a house elf and made their way to the front door.

"Don't you want to say goodbye?" Hermione asked.

"Not particularly." Lucius' voice brooked no argument and she wasn't really inclined to push him back into the arms of his ex-wife anyway. In fact, she was quite relieved to get away without any further confrontation with the formidable blond.

"I don't mean to be critical," Hermione began as they walked in what Lucius assured her was the direction of the nearest Apparition point. "But that was an odd choice for a first date."

Lucius stiffened a little beside her. It appeared his ego was more fragile than she would have guessed.

"In what way?" he asked.

Hermione looked up at him. He was avoiding her eyes. "Well," she began carefully not wishing to offend him. "I've never been on a first date where the man in questions' ex-wife was the hostess before."

"Ah." Lucius continued to not look at her. "It hadn't occurred to me that Narcissa would cause a problem. When she was off enjoying herself with a whole host of eligible bachelors she never stopped harping on at me to start seeing someone. She is currently between paramours thus her rather embarrassing display."

"I see," said Hermione who didn't really. She didn't think she'd ever had a paramour let alone been between them. Lucius made it sound very glamorous, like being the filling in a delicious sex sandwich as opposed to the harsh reality of being a single woman living in London with only her geriatric cat for company. "Well, I'm sorry if she was upset by my presence."

"I'm not," Lucius said cheerfully. "She's rubbed my face in her indiscretions one too many times. "

"So that was why you invited me?"

"No!" He frowned. "Not consciously at least." He frowned even harder a furrow appearing between his eyes. "I must admit it was nice to be the one flaunting their beautiful and exotic partner, but that was not my primary reason for asking you."

"Beautiful and exotic," Hermione said faintly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You think I'm beautiful and exotic?"

"I mentioned that earlier."

"No." She shook her head as she mentally replayed their earlier conversation. "You called me desirable and beautiful."

"Well, you may add exotic to the list of accolades." He stopped walking and looked down at her. "Miss Granger, Hermione, despite my concerted efforts I feel as if we may still be operating at cross purposes."

"How so?" Hermione looked up at him. Here it was. The real reason behind his frankly odd behaviour…

"My earlier assurances appear to have fallen on deaf ears, so I will attempt, once more, to make myself clear. My sole reason for inviting you this evening was because I wished to spend more time with you, in an informal setting. With the hope of pursuing a romantic attachment. In retrospect, I appreciate that my ex-wife's party might not have been the best choice of venue, but please believe me when I say that I chose it with the best of intentions."

"Really?" Hermione was struggling to process the entire scenario. Not just this new honest Lucius, but the fact that he appeared to be genuinely interested in her.

"Yes." Lucius resumed walking. "I knew you would be uncomfortable coming to my home so

I didn't invite you there. I thought you would be embarrassed to be seen in public with me, but would prefer to security of an audience in case I relapsed and fell back into my old murderous ways," a hint of a smile suggested that this were not a genuine concern, "and I wanted to spend New Year's Eve with you so I would have an excuse to kiss you at midnight."

He removed a key from the pocket of his robes and unlocked the gate to a small private garden. "The Apparition point is in here." Hermione followed him through the gate.

"Erm, how are we going to do this?" She asked, her head still reeling from his revelations.

"In the normal manner." Lucius looked at her askance. "You do know how to Apparate, I'm sure?"

"Yes, but you don't know where I live, so how will you…?"

"Side along is fine." Lucius held out a large well-manicured hand.

Hermione swallowed. She couldn't quite believe that Lucius Malfoy, pureblood supremacist, was about to allow her to whisk his precious body through space. She took a deep calming breath and prayed to any deity she could think of that she wouldn't splinch either him or herself.

They made it to the back garden of her parent's house without incident. Hermione has elected to live in the large semi in a pleasant suburb rather than in the small flat her salary could have bought her. Sentiment prevented her from selling the house where she'd grown up and living in the family home made her feel closer to her parents somehow. Besides, it was a very nice house.

Lucius looked appreciatively at the frontage as Hermione fished in her cloak pocket for a key.

"I do believe the ministry is paying its junior ministers too much," he remarked.

"Don't you dare." Hermione pointed her door key threateningly at him.

"Don't I dare what?"

"You've got that look in your eye."

"What look?"

"The one you always get right before you cut someone's budget."

"I was merely making an observation."

"Well stop observing. This is my parents' house."

Lucius looked alarmed. "Your father isn't waiting inside to ascertain whether my intentions are honourable, is he?"

"No. My parents don't live here." Hermione wasn't in the mood to explain the whereabouts of her still Obliviated parents. "You're quite safe….shit," the last part was muttered under her breath as an elderly couple rounded the corner and eagerly crossed the street to accost her and Lucius.

"Hermione," the elderly woman gushed. "How lovely to see you. You must introduce your friend."

Must I? "Lucius, this is Mr. and Mrs. Briggs. They live across the road. I've known them since I was a little girl. Mr. and Mrs. Briggs, this is Lucius Malfoy." She purposefully did not give her nosy neighbours any further information regarding Lucius. They could jolly well draw their own conclusions. She could see them looking him over carefully.

"It's lovely to meet you, Lucius." Mrs. Briggs held out her hand. To Hermione's relief Lucius took it. "You must be in the same 'club' as Hermione." She made little inverted commas in the air around 'club'. Lucius looked across at Hermione and she nodded slightly.

"Yes," he agreed. "That's how we know each other."

"Of course, of course. It's lovely she has such an immersive hobby." The old lady beamed at Lucius until Hermione began to feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Well, erm, I'm afraid we need to go. It's terribly late. It was lovely to see you both."

"Lovely to see you too, dear." With a flurry of well wishes the elderly couple tottered off to their own home casting numerous unsubtle glances in Hermione and Lucius' direction.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Hermione pulled him through the front door and shut it firmly behind them.

"Club?" Lucius asked.

"My parents made something up when I started going to Hogwarts. The told the neighbours I was part of some pagan society. It explained the strangely dressed visitors and the owls at least."

"Paganism?" Lucius looked affronted. "That couldn't be further from the magic we practice."

"Thank you, I am aware of that." Hermione removed her cloak. "But the Statute of Secrecy forbade me from revealing exactly what magic I do practice to to the neighbourhood so this seemed like a harmless compromise. Except all the neighbours think I'm terribly eccentric now. Would you like me to hang that up?" Lucius had removed his cloak and was looking around her home with interest. "Just make yourself at home," she muttered as he handed her the cloak and made his way unbidden into the living room where he paused to examine the photos on the dresser.

"Why aren't they moving?" He gave a portrait of Hermione and her parents a poke.

"Muggle pictures don't move." Hermione abandoned their cloaks over the end of the bannister and followed him into the room.

"How strange." Lucius moved carefully around the room. He spent several minutes examining the television remote and as long over the bookcase which contained her father's collection of National Geographic magazines. When he had flicked the living room lights on and off three times Hermione interrupted him.

"Would you like a drink...or some tea?"

She bit her lip shyly as his attention was suddenly brought back to her.

"I've never been in a Muggle home before."

"Is it what you expected?"

"I'm not sure what I expected." He looked around him. "It is less primitive, I suppose."

She couldn't help but laugh. "I remember the first time I visited Ron's home. I was blown away."

Lucius gave a disdainful sniff. "I can assure you my own home is infinitely superior to that of Arthur Weasley."

"I've had the pleasure of visiting your home," she said quietly. "On the whole I think I preferred the Burrow."

Lucius winced. "I'm sorry." She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so nonplussed before. "That was crass of me. I hope that one day you might return under more auspicious circumstances." He took a hesitant step toward her.

She ducked her head in order to avoid his gaze. "Maybe," she finally answered.

He stepped closer still and tucked an errant cur behind her ear. "I don't really want any tea."

"Me neither."

His fingertips traced along her cheekbone. She wondered if she imagined the slight tremble as his hand cupped her cheek.

"I have been thinking of nothing but this since Christmas Eve," he said as he covered her lips with his own.

Hermione might have wished to dwell on his words, but already that intoxicating magic was taking hold and she was helpless in its thrall.

"Why does this keep happening?" She pulled away enough to ask.

"Why do I keep kissing you?"

"No." She smacked his chest, certain that he was being deliberately obtuse. Somehow her hand lingered there her fingers toying with the buttons of his waistcoat. "When we do kiss. I've never felt like this before."

"Like what?"

She spread her fingers as she groped desperately for words. "I don't quite know how to describe it...it's quite overwhelming."

"I know." His admission took her by surprise.

"You do?"

"Yes, I feel the same."

"I can't imagine you being overwhelmed by anything."

He gave a brief shrug. "Then perhaps you don't know me as well as you think you do."

Hermione privately thought that she didn't know him at all and right now she didn't much care. They were not going to get to the bottom of their strange sexual chemistry by discussing the matter. Instead, summoning her considerable reserves of courage, she took his hand and backed out of the living room, leading him determinedly up the stairs.

He hesitated in the doorway to her bedroom.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely." Her response surprised her a little, but she realised she spoke the truth. She didn't think she had ever been more certain of anything in her life. And, as if to prove her point, she began to undo the small buttons of his waistcoat. He stood patiently as she undressed him. Occasionally he lifted an arm in order to assist her, but otherwise he allowed her to work without interference. Hermione unwrapped him as if he were a long awaited Christmas gift. She set his robes aside as if they were a delicate paper she planned to reuse and folded his cravat as if it were a ribbon she might bring out to fasten around another gift the following year.

After what seemed like an age he stood topless before her, his grey eyes alight with desire and fixed on hers.

"What now?"

In response she began to unbutton her own blouse. Still, he watched her although she could see from the tick of a muscle in his jaw how much effort remaining still cost him. She managed to unbutton her shirt entirely before he lost his internal battle and closed the distance between them. Within seconds she was divested of her shirt and bra and his hot mouth had closed around one of her nipples. She cried out with surprise and excitement as he sucked hard enough to bruise. His hands were everywhere. They stroked the curve of her spine and kneaded the flesh of her buttocks. They toyed with her other nipple and curved around her back to hold her more closely against his mouth as he trailed hot biting kisses between her breasts before fastening onto the other nipple.

Hermione writhed and wriggled against him. Her own hands were as impatient as his. Her fingers splayed across the flawless plane of his back. They tangled in his platinum hair and pulled him even closer to her as she moaned and whimpered her encouragement.

Before she quite knew what was happening he had tumbled them both backward onto the bed and then he was kissing her and she was seeing stars once again. She arched her back, rubbing her breasts eagerly against his chest even as her hands crept down to cup his taut backside.

The foreplay didn't last long. They were both too revved up, adrenaline flowing along with whatever other pheremones they were exuding, and much sooner than perhaps either of them expected Lucius managed to strip off Hermione's trousers and knickers in one go.

"Are you ready?" There was a note of desperation in his voice as he positioned himself between her thighs. But Hermione didn't even take the time to revel in her power over him as she gasped her response.

"Yes, God yes, please, Lucius."

He needed no further encouragement and she gave a wail as he thrust hard, bottoming out on the first stroke. She hadn't really had time to appreciate how large he was and it really had been two years since her last sexual encounter. The stretch as her body acclimated to his was more than a little uncomfortable. She whimpered, her fingers clenching convulsively around his shoulders.

"Are you all right?" his voice was a mere gasp. "I can stop if you need me to." There was a hint of desperation behind his assurance.

"No, no, don't stop." Pain and pleasure were so very closely connected and she could feel that the pleasure was right there, just within her grasp. "Can you kiss me again?"

He obliged and her body melted into his. That glorious cacophony of sensation that his lips had never ceased to ignite began once more and she unconsciously arched against him. His thick length buried deep inside her now somehow made sense as it hadn't before and they began to move in harmony.

The burning aching stretch was still there. Right beneath the pleasure was an edge of pain. Just as beneath Lucius' veneer of social civility there was core of brutal determination. Hermione took pleasure in both. He stopped kissing her and it occurred to her that he, like she, was so overwhelmed by what was happening that he lacked the co-ordination to move his hips and mouth at the same time. Then he raised his head so his eyes locked with hers and she realised that he simply wished to see her. He watched as she writhed beneath him helpless to temper her response to him. At first she feared what she might see in his eyes, self-satisfaction or triumph perhaps. But there was only wonder in his silver grey gaze as he angled himself so his pelvis ground against her clitoris and he brought her to orgasm more quickly than she could even manage herself. It was too much. The pleasure, his stare, his kisses; the entire phenomenon of her and this man was too much to take and she closed her eyes to shut out something as the waves of pleasure consumed her.

"Look at me."

"What?" she panted. She was barely capable of basic comprehension at this point.

"Look at me." She felt his hand on her cheek and she forced her eyes open even though she felt wrung out by her orgasm and ready to pass out at any moment. The blazing intensity in his eyes was almost enough to make her faint in itself. Nobody had ever looked at her like this. As if she were the most precious and wonderful thing in the world. His mouth dropped open and he shuddered above her, his entire body quaking with the strength of his own orgasm.

Then he collapsed on top of her and cradled her body against his as his heart beat painfully fast against her own.

Hermione could only lie beneath him, still pulsing with the occasional aftershock, wondering what exactly had just happened. Because it felt as if she had experienced the most mind blowingly intimate sex of her entire life with Lucius Malfoy of all people. He shifted a little to allow her to breathe, but otherwise he said nothing, seemingly content merely to hold her in his arms as their vital signs gradually normalised.

Eventually, the analytical part of her brain woke up and began to ask questions. Questions like what the hell just happened? And, is that going to happen again? And she found herself asking out loud, "So what happens next?"

To her surprise Lucius let out a slightly hoarse chuckle. "Well, I haven't drawn up a detailed timetable. But, I shall have to recover for a short while then I shall have you on your hands and knees in front of that mirror." He gestured with his head toward the mirror at the end of her bed.

"Oh." Hermione stared up at him and to her surprise she felt her slightly bruised and battered body clench with anticipation.

For a man so fastidious in his dress Lucius was a very untidy sleeper. During the night he had somehow taken over three quarters of Hermione's not small double bed. She woke to find him sprawled inelegantly on his front. His hair and limbs were strewn across the covers and one large hand weighed her down, the fingers clenched possessively over the curve of her backside.

Untidy or not, he was also exceptionally beautiful. His smooth skin glowed in the early morning light and she could see the subtle definition of the musculature of his back and thighs. It was as if a marble statue had lain down for a nap in the middle of her bed. She was loathe to wake him, but eventually the demands of her bladder overrode her desire to feast her eyes on the vision before her. She tried to slip out from under his hand, but was met with a protesting groan.

"Where?" A single grey eye looked beseechingly up at her as his hand tightened on her backside.

"Bathroom."

"Oh." He reluctantly removed his arm and the eye closed.

Hermione limped her way to the bathroom feeling more than a little well used. Whilst Lucius had been undoubtedly worshipful in his lovemaking he had been extremely enthusiastic too. She ached all over as if she had taken part in a particularly strenuous exercise class. She winced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked as if she'd gone six rounds with a heavyweight boxer not a member of the wizarding elite. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, she sported a love bite over her collarbone and her hair was matted, actually matted at the back.

There was precious little she could do with her appearance. She brushed her teeth, washed her face and glamoured the bags under her eyes. With a heavy sigh she pulled her hair back into a messy bun. Presumably Lucius hadn't chosen her for her hair.

He appeared to be asleep when she came back to the bedroom. A blanket was now pooled around his waist and she did wonder if he had spent a few minutes arranging it to be as aesthetically pleasing as possible. She slipped under the covers doing her best not to disturb the sleeping man who took up most of the bed.

"I thought you'd run away." His voice was gravelly with sleep.

"I couldn't fit through the bathroom window." She finished on a slight squeak as an arm snaked out to pull her up against his chest her bottom nestled against his erection. "Steady on!" She reached down to intercept his wandering hand. "I'm a bit sore."

"I'm sorry." He leaned up on an elbow in order to see her face. "Was I over enthusiastic?"

"No!...Well maybe a bit, but I enjoyed it at the time."

"Five times," he said a little smugly.

"Now now, Mr. Malfoy," she turned to face him and wrapped her fingers around his cock. "Nobody likes a braggart."

"Whatever you say." He gasped for breath and thrust his hips against her hand. "Circe, please don't stop. You have no idea how many times I have imagined you doing this."

Really?

"You've imagined me doing this?" She pumped her hand up and down a couple of times. He winced.

"Yes. Although gently, please, I may have overexerted myself last night."

She loosened her fingers, stroking down the hard length of him instead. He purred contentedly.

"For how long exactly have you been imagining me doing this?" she asked. She wondered if it had been that first kiss under the mistletoe which had ignited his interest as it had hers.

"Since I came to work at the ministry. On my first day...I knew then…" He looked a little hurt. "You don't remember?"

She wracked her brain. "I'm not sure."

"There was a debate on a piece of legislation you were trying to implement. Werewolf rights if I recall."

"Oh, that day." Her fingers stilled against him. "You were a complete arse. You argued against every point I made just to spite me."

"I most certainly did not." He placed his hand over hers encouraging her to continue her stroking. "I simply wished to ensure you had fully considered all the repercussions of your recommendation. I'll have you know I voted in your favour."

"You did?"

"I usually do in the end."

She slid her fingers lower and stroked his balls as she considered what he was saying. "Did you vote for me because you wanted me to do this?"

"No," his voice was slightly strangled. "Although if you keep doing that I'll vote for any bill you want to pass."

She smiled slightly. His admiration was puzzling, but hugely gratifying.

"I wanted you to do this because you made me vote for you." His grey eyes sought out hers.

"I don't understand."

"You grabbed me by the balls," he glanced down at her exploring hand, "metaphorically speaking, and really made me think. I was predisposed to reconsider much of the dogma I had previously subscribed to anyway. But you, you were so passionate, so certain, so idealistic. You made me believe in the possibility of a better world. From that day I knew I had to have you."

"Really?"

"Yes really."

Hermione frowned. "Well you have a funny way of showing it."

It was Lucius' turn to frown. "I don't follow."

"For the last six months you've made my life a misery."

"I have?" He looked contrite.

"Yes! You've opposed every piece of legislation I've proposed."

"Not opposed, questioned thoroughly in order to make sure it was legislatively sound."

She ignored that. "You've slashed my budget."

"As I have everyone else's in order to save the economy from complete collapse. You are really overly preoccupied with how I do my job."

"You've called me mudblood."

"For heaven's sake, woman." He rolled suddenly so he was on top of her. "It was the only thing I could do that ever got your attention!"

She blinked slowly. "You called me names in order to get my attention?"

At this he buried his face in her shoulder and gave an exaggerated sob. "Sweet Merlin, I'm dealing with an imbecile. No. In order to get your attention I have worked every hour of the day and night for no financial recompense. I have attended every debate for every piece of legislation you have tried to pass. I have joined every board and committee you are a member of. I've even donated money to your ridiculous house elf movement and freed my own bloody elves."

"I didn't know—"

"It was all over the Daily Prophet. I made sure it was in the hope that other pureblood families might follow suit. I have done nothing short of prostrate myself at your feet. Only then, when I had done absolutely everything possible to get your attention and still you ignored me did I call you names…"

She gaped up at him. "But why—"

"Because I'm in love with you." His face was inches from her own and it struck her that he ought to have morning breath. She would never have the confidence to declare her affections to anyone at point blank range before she had brushed her teeth. But of course Lucius fucking perfect Malfoy still smelled as fresh as a daisy. "I have been in love with you for six months. Six months during which time you have barely given me the time of day. Then I discovered that all I had to do was call you mudblood and you'd pursue me into my office and harangue me for hours on end." He flexed his hips against hers. "You have no idea how much those encounters meant to me."

"You...you...got off on me shouting at you."

"I got off as you so crudely put it on you acknowledging I existed." He flexed his hips again and they both groaned a little as his cock rubbed against her tender genitals. "You shouting at me sustained my sexual fantasies for weeks on end."

"You might as well have pulled my hair."

She slipped her hand between their bodies and guided him inside her, wincing as her bruised interior stretched to accommodate him.

He grimaced and bit her shoulder. "This is really quite painful."

"I know." She curled her toes as he began to move slowly inside her.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No." She dug her fingers into his buttocks. "Do you want to stop?"

"No." He sucked in a sharp breath. "But if we're going to continue at this frequency I'm going to have to purchase some sort of salve."

"I could make one, I think. I'm good at potions."

After that they didn't speak for several minutes although Hermione made a variety of interesting noises.

"Lucius?"

"Hmm," he answered sleepily. She was lying half over his chest and he vibrated pleasantly as he spoke. "How long had you been standing under that mistletoe?"

"About four hours." His fingers gently stroked the skin of her back.

"And was I really the first person to pass?"

"Of course not. I had forcibly rejected several other witches and that enthusiastic boy from the mailroom before you came along."

"But how did you know I would come?"

He yawned. "I had made sure to position myself between your office and the lifts, I knew it would just be a matter of time."

"What?" She raised her head to stare at him. He returned her accusatory gaze with a look of sleepy satisfaction. "You mean you—"

"Are you always this slow on the uptake?" He guided her head back down onto his chest. "Yes, I planted the mistletoe myself. I decided if I couldn't win you over intellectually I would have to do it physically instead."

"And the mistletoe outside my office?"

"Do you really think the ministry allows enchanted mistletoe as part of its standard decorating package? Think of all the wasted man hours...I vetoed it months ago."

After several minutes when Hermione still hadn't spoken he said, "You're not saying anything and it's making me uncomfortable."

"I'm just thinking."

"You normally do that whilst talking."

"I know...I'm just.." she looked up to meet his gaze. "I think I'm flattered."

"Good." He gave her a sleepy smile. "Now I have your attention I'd very much like to go back to sleep for a few hours."

"And what happens after that?"

We brew up this restorative salve you promised and then…"

"Then?"

He shrugged. "We spend the rest of our lives applying it at regular intervals?"

Hermione balked a little at that. "You know I've only just got my head around you not hating me. Perhaps we could go on a few more dates before we discuss the rest of our lives."

Lucius gave a sleepy smile. "As you wish, my dear."

And they lived happily ever after.

~Happy New Year~


End file.
